After Midnight
by bowtruckles
Summary: In the early hours of Christmas Day, Hermione makes a visit to Ron's bedroom to properly give him his gift. The sequel to my drabble "You Think You're Funny?" and it is suggested to read that first. Rated for language and sexual content.


_A/N: Before you ask, yes, someday I will post a new chapter of Everything in Transit, but until that day, please enjoy this little tidbit of festive, fluffy smut. It was written as a continuation of one of my drabbles (Chapter 27 of A Bit Of Both, "You Think You're Funny?"), so it may help to read that first. I'm keeping that series fairly family-friendly which is why this is getting its own story. And also, thank you so much to everyone for your support this past year, it has meant the world to me. Love you all!_

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"Best ever, really?" Hermione laughed, her hands automatically coming up to rest on Ron's shoulders. His face, coarse from the copper stubble dotting his jaw, rubbed against her neck, sending chills up her spine.

"Not that we've got the best track record, exactly," Ron admitted, "but I had eleven years of Christmases before I met you, and none of them was even remotely as good as my worst one with you."

"Which one was that, exactly? Our worst?" asked Hermione, shifting around to position herself directly beneath him.

"Er…" Ron gave a low, nervous laugh. "Let's not get into that now - who knows when Harry'll be back-"

"Harry would be mental to come back before dawn-" Hermione began, finding her words interrupted by Ron's warm, gentle lips on hers. With a sigh, she sank into it, momentarily disregarding that they were upside down on his bed. "But we should lock the door."

Ron scrambled up onto his knees, eyes darting around the room for his wand. He finally located it on the floor behind his bedside table and, as Hermione sat up to recover the Cannons boxers from the rumpled bedsheets, cast locking and silencing charms at the bedroom door. Now suddenly looking shy, his ears flushing just the faintest pink, Ron leaned toward Hermione to kiss her again.

"Wait a second," she said, dodging him. "Aren't you going to put these on?"

"Now?" asked Ron, befuddled.

"So we can match!"

"We'll match when we're both starkers in five minutes," Ron said with a chuckle, tipping forward to land a kiss on her lips. "Speaking of which-" He reached out for the hem of her t-shirt, but her hands circled gently around his wrists to stop him.

"So you get to see me in mine but I can't see you in yours?"

"Oh, you'll see me in them, believe me," said Ron emphatically. "We've got, what, nine days left of your holiday? You'll probably get sick of seeing them."

"Doubtful," Hermione murmured, scooting closer to him and placing her hands on his thighs as she tilted her face up to his.

For a second, the only sound in the room was that of their lips meeting over and over again, the creaking of the ancient bedsprings as Hermione leaned in to deepen the kiss, the occasional quiet moan from the back of Ron's throat. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her so close that she nearly straddled his lap, and then went for the hem of her shirt. This time she let him lift it up, breaking their kiss only so he could pull it over her head. Ron, however, drew back, chest heaving slightly, to let his eyes drink in the sight before him. Hermione knew she should feel a little self-conscious, a little silly - she was, after all, wearing a bra decked out in the logo of the absolute worst Quidditch team in the league - but the genuine adoration in Ron's eyes eradicated any doubt.

"Have I ever told you," he said, running a finger under the thin strap on her shoulder, "how good you look in orange?"

She laughed, tipping her head back, as he locked his lips onto the curve of her neck, bestowing wet, eager kisses over her skin. Hermione's breathing grew quick and shallow as his hands moved down her chest, toying with the small clasp between her breasts.

"Actually," Ron said, pulling away and running his hands down Hermione's upper arms, "I sort of want you to leave it on - is that barking?" His cheeks burned a vibrant red behind his freckles as he spoke.

"It's your Christmas gift," replied Hermione simply. She settled herself a bit more firmly on his lap, her bare stomach pressing against his cotton-covered one, and claimed his lips again.

Now, he wasted no time tipping her onto her back so that her hair fanned out on the quilt behind her. With her knees on either side of his waist, Hermione grabbed his threadbare shirt, shifting it up his torso. Kisses that had started out slow and gentle grew frenzied, Ron's tongue delving eagerly into Hermione's mouth. The skin on his stomach seemed to burn against hers as their hips ground together.

"Ron," Hermione panted when his shirt had bunched up under his arms, "take this off."

"Take what off?" he asked with a smirk, kissing directly down the column of her neck and over the top of her breasts.

"Actually, all of it," she decided, giving a forceful yank on the back of his shirt.

Ron wiggled out of it, leaving himself in just a pair of black boxers and rumpling his already-messy hair along the way. Hermione smiled as she reached up to brush her fingers through his locks and used the back of his neck to pull him down into another kiss. Another slightly awkward maneuver later, the boxers had joined the rest of their clothes on the floor and Ron's body had descended on hers again, their skin already growing sticky with sweat. Desire curled low in Hermione's stomach as Ron's thick length dug into her inner thigh, his hand curving over her breast. Inching aside the silky fabric of her bra, Ron dragged his mouth over her nipple, his tongue sliding over the sensitive skin. She almost laughed - he was getting creative - but then his teeth grazed over her skin and her mind went blank.

"Right," Ron breathed, planting a kiss on her collarbone. "Let's see the knickers now."

Breathless, Hermione nodded, reaching down to strip away her pajama bottoms. Her heart was pounding, even though she had been in similar situations with him countless times. Maybe it was the flickering glow of the lantern illuminating the gold strands in his hair, maybe it was the fact that it was Christmas and they were both alive, not to mention happy and together, or maybe it was just the grin that burst over Ron's face at the sight of her orange and black knickers, but everything about the moment burned itself into her brain. She was going to remember this, their first real Christmas together - as silly and playful as it was - for as long as she lived.

"Do you want me to leave these on too?" she teased him.

"Y'know, I do like those on you," he said, settling his weight on one elbow so he could run a hand down her side, "but I might like them even better on the floor."

As she shook her head in amusement, his hand slipped around to the front of her knickers and underneath the fabric. Automatically Hermione slid her thighs apart, allowing his fingers to press against the warmth between her legs. Gently, Ron dipped a finger inside of her, then another, making her arch her back in pleasure. She moved to kiss him and nearly missed, barely landing her lips on the corner of his mouth as his fingers slid in and out.

"You feel ready," he gasped between kisses, "do you-"

"Yes," Hermione nodded hastily, lifting her hips up from the bed so he could draw the knickers down her legs.

As Ron hovered over her, a scarred, freckled forearm on either side of her shoulders, she reached between their bodies and lightly grasped him in her hand. Eyes shut, he let out a low groan at her touch. Placing an errant kiss on his chest, Hermione positioned him at her entrance and looked up into startlingly blue eyes as he sank slowly into her. His breathing hoarse and ragged, Ron rolled his hips against hers and thrust slowly into her, but only moved once or twice before pausing.

"Fuck, hold on," he said, his brow furrowing.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he was quick to say, "nothing's wrong, you're perfect, I just-" Beads of sweat popping up along his nose, he brought a hand between their bodies and deftly unhooked the clasp holding her bra in place. "This is in the way, I only want you," he confessed with a bright red face, moving the garment away from her body.

With a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, Hermione wormed her arms out of the straps, letting Ron drop the bra to the ground as she moved her hands back to his waist.

"I love you," she whispered to him as he began to move inside her again in earnest.

"Love you too," he mumbled back, his lips finding a tiny patch of skin behind her ear.

As he rocked into her, she closed her eyes, letting herself become engulfed by the feeling of being filled, stretched, completed by him. Her legs wound tightly around his waist as her hands drifted up his back and threaded into his sweaty hair. Breath hot on her neck, he peppered kisses up her jaw until his lips connected with hers, soft and warm yet desperate with need. Digging her heels into his back, she squeezed his sides with her thighs.

"Go harder," she instructed him, moving her hands to his shoulders to cling to him as he pumped ardently into her. The twin bed creaked and whined under the force of their movements, drowning out Hermione's sighs and soft moans as the pulsing between her legs magnified.

"It's good?" Ron rose up to support himself on his palm, altering the angle of their contact and making Hermione arch her back up into him.

"So good," she moaned, "right there, like that - yes-" Her words broke off as her body seized up, a protracted, uneven whimper erupting from her lips.

"Fu-uuuuck," Ron groaned, hips bucking erratically into hers as he let himself go, both their hearts thundering in their chests.

With her knees still clamped at his sides, Hermione lifted her head and kissed him, her body still trembling from their shared release. Part of her wanted to stay locked together forever, with his weight pinning her to the end and their skin glued together, but he had been right before - they still had the rest of her holiday from Hogwarts to be together - and a sense of immense calm and satisfaction was beginning to wash over her.

"I'm glad you woke me up for this," Ron said, a faint grin on his face as he pulled his hips away from hers and rolled onto his back. "Will you spend the rest of the night in here?"

"Of course, but can we at least lay the right way on the bed?"

"Huh?" Ron picked his head up to look at his headboard by his feet, seeming to realize this for the first time. "Oh, yeah. Let's fix that."

After some rearranging and a few cleansing charms, they were nestled tightly together under his quilt, Hermione's head on Ron's chest, his fingers absently twisting a lock of her hair.

"So tell me," said Ron, kissing the top of her head, "where'd you get this idea, anyway?"

"I was just trying to think of the things you like best-"

"You and Quidditch," Ron concluded with a nod. "Well, you're not wrong."

"And this actually isn't everything," she continued, turning onto her stomach to prop her chin on his chest. "I also - well, they're in my trunk, I don't have them with me - I got you tickets to one of the Cannons matches in the spring-"

Ron's eyes widened. "You're joking."

"No, of course I'm not - and it's over the Easter hols, so I can go with you, but I won't be offended if you want to go with Harry-"

He interrupted her with a long, deep kiss, his lips smiling against hers.

"No, no, of course you're coming with me," Ron said excitedly, "I think we'll make a Cannons supporter out of you yet - I actually think I have some old recordings of their best matches up in the attic, y'know, if the ghoul hasn't ruined them, we can start by listening to those, and then…"

As he chattered on about his plans - much of which, as Hermione expected, included plenty of utilization of their new undergarments - she laid her cheek back on his chest and let herself appreciate the sheer giddiness in his voice.

Yes, Hermione thought, she definitely knew what he liked.

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 _Thanks for reading! Please review :)_


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